


Promise Me

by wilddragonflying



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, AU on the heartbreak, Alternate Universe, F/M, Spoilers, aka where Solas is not a chicken-spirited asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3495509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Solas told the truth he originally intended in the scene near the waterfall</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promise Me

It was never his intention to let things go this far. The elven woman-- El'miir Lavellan-- had fascinated him, though, and not just for the mark that she bore as a result of his stolen focus. In the months since he had awakened from his utheran, he had found that the life of the People had grown even worse than when he'd first locked away the Old Gods and the Forgotten Ones. They were wary of strangers, and had no real use for the Fade, no desire to explore it-- they feared it, even.

Yet this one woman, who claimed to have been apprentice to her clan's Keeper, seemingly carried none of these values, just as she bore no vallaslin on her face. She looked to their tales as a starting point, a foundation for her build upon, and she looked to the future, seeking to safeguard the People and to create a better future for them, as she had proven in Halamshiral, sacrificing the Empress for the sake of all Thedas and the future of the elves. Solas had comforted her then, when she had questioned whether or not it had been best to let the empress die; had told her that sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and that once made could not be undone. Perhaps not the most comforting of words, but they'd seemed to work at the time.

And then at the Well of Sorrows, she'd ignored Solas's advice, asking her not to drink from the Well, and had watched in horror as she bound herself to Mythal-- horrified, in part, because a large part of him wished that she'd bound herself to _him,_ though he'd not wished that in ages, not since long before the fall of Arlathan.

He'd spoken to her in anger, then, when she'd come to him in Skyhold, but as ever she refused to bow, had instead insisted that this was better than the alternative, better than letting the knowledge of their people fall into the hands of a shemlen, even one so well-versed in their lore as Morrigan, and Solas had had to agree-- and when she'd told him that she sought to restore things to the way they were, Solas believed her. There would be changes, but with any luck, they would not be bad changes.

And now, they were standing in Crestwood, near a small grove that had not been visited by one of his kind in more years than he cared to count. Solas told her he cared for her, that he wished to prove it to her, to tell her the truth-- and yet he'd backed out at the last moment, telling her instead of the history of the vallaslin, couching it in his lie of having seen it in the Fade, as he'd done with so many stories before.

Yet El'miir was no fool, and he was the fool for believing that she would think that all the truth he wished to share. She said as much. "That is not all," she said, after a few long moments of silence. "I know you, Solas-- better, perhaps, than you think. You wished to tell me something big, but it was not the history of the vallaslin; you know it does not matter to me as much as it would to others of my kin."

Solas could not help but chuckle. "No, it is not," he admitted, unable to bring himself to lie this once. "But I do not know how you would react to the truth, and I fear that."

El'miir's expression softened, and she reached up to lay a hand against his cheek, her thumb stroking over it gently. "Neither of us will know my reaction until I have heard your words," she said quietly. "You know I do not make promises I cannot know if I will be able to keep. But what I can promise you is to listen."

Solas leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly. "You will hate me when you learn the truth," he whispered, unable to meet her gaze.

He heard her chuckle. "I highly doubt that," she murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his lips; the action was bittersweet, and perhaps the last time she would ever do it.

He sighed, leaning into her touch before pulling away. "I have been deceiving you," he confessed quietly. "You and the entire Inquisition. I am no elf, nor a mere apostate." He could practically feel her curiosity and confusion, but she kept quiet, and he was unsure of whether or not he was grateful for it. "My knowledge of the Fade is real, and it comes from dreaming, but not each night. I slept for ages, vhenan." He opened his eyes in time to see recognition dawn, and El'miir drew her hand back, staring at him in shock. "I am Fen'Harel."

"He Who Hunts Alone," she whispered, her expression indecipherable. "Why hide?" she demanded.

Solas-- for that was who he had come to think of himself as, no longer the Dread Wolf of the age of Arlathan-- laughed, but there was no humor. "I know the stories they tell of me, vhenan. I woke weak, near-powerless, and would have been no match for the anger of the People, ill-founded as it might be."

Thoughtfulness crossed her expression. "You mean because of the Great Betrayal, when you locked away the Old Gods."

Solas nodded. "I did it to try to give the People a better future, one not restricted by slavery. Yet in so doing, I made things worse for them."

"Your intentions were honest," El'miir murmured, looking off to the side, her expression pinched in concentration. After a moment, she glanced to Solas again. "Why let things progress, then?" she asked. "If you had not, I would have let things be, would have let _you_ be. Was this some joke you played to occupy yourself while waiting for the orb to come back into your possession."

Solas knew his expression was just as stricken as he felt. "No, vhenan--"

"Do not call me that," El'miir snapped, showing the first sign of anger. "You have lied to me, and strung me along when you knew there would be no future for us. You do not have the right to call me that."

Solas took a deep breath, and nodded; she was right, he knew. He should have never let things go this far. "I am sorry, vh-- Inquisitor. I should not have let things go this far, but I-- I was weak, and allowed myself to be selfish."

El'miir moved past him, walking for the entrance to the grove, but she paused after a few steps. "Allow me a few days to mourn and be angry," she said, her voice measuredly calm. "I will speak to you then."

He should not press, he knew, but he could not help but ask: "Why?"

El'miir's mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "I must mourn for the future I thought we could have, and rail at myself for deluding myself into thinking I could have it, despite the signs laid clearly before me. You never intended to tell me the truth, Fen'Harel, and you intended to slip away once you had regained your orb, to leave us as abruptly as you came. Allow me this dignity, at least."

Solas could do nothing but nod and watch as she walked away.

************

El'miir sought him out after almost a week, asking him to meet her in her quarters where they would not be overheard. She was waiting for him on the balcony, and Solas approached her carefully, stopping a few feet away. She was the first to break the silence. "You are known for wielding your words just as a soldier wields his sword," she began. "And my instinct is to trust them no more than I would trust that soldier. Yet you have proven helpful, even if for an ulterior motive. I don't know you as Fen'Harel, but I know you as Solas, and I trusted him." She took a breath, but before Solas could speak, she continued, "I told you that I would help you recover the orb, and I will uphold that promise. After-- I cannot say. You will most likely leave after Corypheus is dead and your focus returned to you."

"I wish to right the wrongs I did so long ago," he supplied. "I was weak, and could not activate the focus myself."

El'miir held up a hand. "That does not matter now," she said evenly. "As you told me at the Winter Palace, what is done is done. What matters is what comes next. For now, you may stay. Am I correct in thinking that you have regained most of your power?" Solas nodded, and El'miir mirrored the movement. "Then keep it hidden, at least until you leave."

Solas inclined his head, and El'miir waved him away, dismissing him; yet he hesitated. "I have wielded words as weapons," he conceded. "But never towards you. Every word I could I made true, vhenan." El'miir tensed, and Solas noted that her hand twitched toward her belt, where one of her smaller knives was kept. "I will not bother you, and if you wish then I will leave as soon as Corypheus is dealt with." With that, he turned to go, only to be stopped by her angry words.

"Damn you," she hissed; he didn't have a chance to turn before she was forcing him to, leaning up to press her lips against his, biting in an angry kiss. He stood still, shocked, until she pulled away. "Damn you," she repeated, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with anger. "This was no game to you, then? You truly--"

Solas brought both hands up to frame her face, pulling her in for a desperate kiss. " _I love you with all that I am,_ " he promised fiercely in the ancient tongue. " _You are my heart's mate, as no other has been or will be._ I swore never to fall for a mortal, but you have made me break that vow, and I would do it again and again, no matter how many times it happened. I can regret hurting you, but never loving you."

Their foreheads were pressed together, El'miir clinging to his hands even as they cupped her face. "Say it again," she demanded, voice rough. "Say it again, and tell me you mean it; tell me that this was never a lie, that this was real."

"It was real," Solas swore fiercely, pressing impossibly closer to her. "It _is_ real. I am yours, if you'll have me. My soul will never be bound to another."

The Inquisitor choked on a sob, shifting to throw her arms around Solas, who moved to hold her, murmuring soothing nonsense in the ancient tongue as she shook in his arms. "Never again," she pleaded. "Please, I cannot survive something like that again. Give me a hundred Breaches, a thousand Nightmare Demons, but do not take yourself from me again."

"Never again," he swore-- and he would keep that promise as best he could. "I will never leave you without explanation." It was the best he could promise, and she seemed to understand that, for she accepted it, clinging to him even more tightly, though he did not mind; he relished it, even, for it meant that somehow, she had decided that he was worthy of another chance, the same as she'd given to so many others-- the chance he'd been convinced would never be offered him if she knew who he was.

Solas would not let her down. 


End file.
